Sunrises to Santiago: Searching for Purpose on the Camino de Santiago (21 page)

After
passing quickly through Triacastela, we soon find ourselves in
another thick forest. The trees form a green tunnel over the trail,
which blocks out the sun and spotty rain. We have not seen any
pilgrims for an hour or so, and by about 3 p.m., we stumble upon an
albergue. A simple sign painted in white letters in the dark red wood
above the door reads,
Albergue
el Beso
.
There is no village here, only this modest gray stone building
surrounded by a small patch of farmland carved out of a thick ancient
forest. The roof is covered with dark wet slate, which looks like the
slick scales of a giant black dragon. An amazing oasis in the middle
of the forest.
We
check in
,
are led downstairs into a basement that is dark, musty, and damp, and
have our choice of bunks as we are the only people here so far.

The
relaxing energy is palpable and after a quick shower, nap, and some
laundry, we both head outside. I find a giant swing hanging from an
800-year-old tree on a hill above the albergue. Plants grow from
branches and emerald green ferns sprout up from every possible
surface in the dark rich soil.
I
am
beginning to understand why they call this leg of the Camino the
spiritual section. I
sit in silence, rocking slowly as the swing sways in the wind.
Listening to the forest, I am filled with a reassuring sense of calm,
and all stress melts away.

“
Are
you guys hungry?
”
a
friendly voice pierces the solitude startling me. We are invited into
the upstairs portion of the building, which is the owner
’
s
home, for dinner. “Come in, come in,” a woman says, greeting us
at the door. “My name is Isabel,” she says.
She
is holding a rosy-cheeked baby who stares at us with dark brown eyes.

“
Nice
to meet you! I am Gabriel, and this is Amy,” I say as we take off
our shoes and enter the home. There is a large wooden table set for
dinner, and their home looks like the scene of some Hollywood
romantic comedy. The walls are made of large dark brown stones, the
floors unpolished wood and as we enter I glance into the kitchen.
There is a wall with large shelves built in. Each shelf is full of
Ball jars filled with all kinds of pickled vegetables. There is a
large
counter in the kitchen that is overflowing with fresh
veggies,
dirt still clinging to them as they were just plucked from the
garden. There is a giant block of Manchego cheese on another counter
and garlic hanging from the wall.

“
I
’
m
Jacob,” a tall blond man, the cook, extends his hand. “I
’
m
the husband. Please, welcome, dinner is almost ready,” he smiles
while motioning us into the main room. He looks like he is
Scandinavian and his accent is definitely not Spanish. He has almost
perfect English.

In
the large open living room, the dinner table is set next to a large
window that opens to an amazing view of our lush green natural
surroundings. It has started to rain, which adds to the feeling of
comfort as the sound of raindrops hitting glass fills the room.
Someone has just lit three tall white candles that add a warm glow to
the table and walls. Multi colored plates and dark green bottles
filled with wine are lined up neatly on the table. Wonderful aromas
from the kitchen swirl around the room making my mouth water.

It
is one of those nights where the stars align and the conversation,
company, and food are all incredible. We are joined by a German woman
and another woman from Slovenia named Tezka. Two pilgrims who have
just arrived and have decided to stay here for the night. The final
dinner guest is a man from England named Art who lives just down the
road. We all sit at the table and dig in. The owners, Isabel and
Jacob, share an amazing story about meeting on the last day of their
Camino de Santiago journey years earlier.

“
We
met in Finisterre on the beach. That place where many pilgrims go,
you know, to burn their clothes and jump into the ocean,” Jacob
explains.

“
We
had our clothes on! We were both staring into the ocean and started
to talk,” Isabel finishes his sentence. “I thought he was very
handsome but he told me he is from Denmark which made me sad.”

“
Where
are you from?” Amy asks.

“
Spain.
From here in Galicia actually,” Isabel replies.

“
But
it didn
’
t matter. Our
connection was so strong we decided to stay in Finisterre for a few
more days before going home. We talked about the Camino and our
adventure. What we had learned. How we had changed. And then,”
Jacob explains as Isabel jumps in again.

“
And
then the rest is history! We decided to open an albergue together. We
wanted to continue to be a part of the Camino de Santiago everyday.
We chose this place because it is a perfect combination of solitude,
living off the land and meeting people from all over the world
everyday,” she says proudly.

Now
they have a growing family. I glance at their new baby who scans the
room with curiosity. A Camino baby.

“
Did
you name him Santiago?
”
I
joke.

“
No
haha,” Isabel smiles.

“
Tezka,”
Jacob says turning to the woman from Slovenia and butchering her
name. “Why are you walking the Camino de Santiago?”

“
Well.
I, um. I am trying to heal,” She says. The mood at the table
quickly changes as everyone senses a more serious note. “My brother
died and my parents have also just died. My entire family is gone.
They all died last year, and I have decided to walk the Camino de
Santiago,” she explains.

I
recognize the same cloak of pain that surrounds her as I saw on Tom a
few days ago. She seems to be farther along in the healing process,
though, as a sort of joy emanates from her.

“
I
am trying to learn to live in the moment, and I want to let go. I
have been so angry at life. You know. Why did this have to happen to
me. I feel like it is unfair,” She explains. It is completely dark
outside now. The candles light the room as our shadows dance on the
stone walls behind us. My face warm with wine, I share with her one
of my favorite quotes about death. It is a little bit corny but I go
for it anyway.

“
What
a caterpillar calls the end of the world, we call a butterfly.
”
—
Eckhart
Tolle,
The
Power of Now

“
Has
your walk helped?” Amy asks.

“
Absolutely.
I don
’
t know how but I
lost my anger somewhere along the Way. I am now making room for peace
and acceptance of what is. What I can
’
t
change,” she says.
“I have
actually been walking at night.”

“
What!?”
There is a collective gasp at the table.

“
Why
at night? That must be really difficult and a little dangerous,”
Jacob says.

“
I
don’t know. Something has just been driving me to walk at night. I
have been waking up at two in the morning most days and just walking
in the dark. I haven’t gotten lost yet. Or robbed,” she smiles.

“
Has
it helped? Walking at night?” Amy asks.

“
I
actually fell yesterday. I dislocated my shoulder and had to pop it
back into place,” she says in a matter of fact tone. “If you
could have heard my scream you would have thought I was giving birth
or something. It was really painful.”

“
If
that would have happened to me I probably would have died,” I joke.
She pulls up her sleeve and shows us the cuts and bruises on her arm.

“
It
has been sort of cathartic for me,” she explains. “All of this
physical pain has been good for my soul. I have pushed my body to the
limit. But as this is happening my emotional pain is leaving me and
has slowly been replaced by peace. I don’t know how it is working
but it is healing me slowly.”

“
I
can’t imagine losing my entire family in the same year,” Isabel
says.

“
It
is a lot. I have been through all of the stages of grief,” she
makes air quotes with her hands. “Mostly I have just been really
pissed off you know. I have not been very pleasant to be around. And
you, Gabriel, why are you here walking?”

I
explain my search for purpose to everyone, and Tezka offers up some
advice with the others.

“
You
know it sounds to me like you have been trying to become something or
do things that others think is good. I used to do that too. My ego
led me to a bank. I was a banker!” She laughs out loud. “Now I am
a spiritual healer. Some people think I am crazy. I am a hippie now!
But I finally decided to do what I want. Not what my friends think is
great. Not what I think will make me somehow better than others. But
what I want. You have a strong ego, Gabriel, I can tell. You have a
kind soul so listen to that. Stop caring what others think. Stop
trying to be better than everyone else.”

“
But
what if I don
’
t know
what I want?” I reply.

“
You
do. You just haven
’
t
listened to it. You don
’
t
have the courage yet,” she replies. “I will tell you what I tell
my clients who come to me for advice. You may have already seen this
advice in magazines or online. All day tomorrow while you are
walking. Focus on one simple question. What would you do if you knew
you couldn
’
t fail?”

“
That
is good advice,” Amy replies. Everyone at the table nods in
agreement.

“
How
bout you, Art? How did you decide to live here in Spain?” Amy asks.

“
I
also walked the Camino de Santiago
a
few years ago and was inspired to quit my job in England and buy an
old building out here in the woods. I love to paint so I decided to
go for it. I turned my little
building
into an art studio, which is just down the trail,” he explains in
his thick British accent. “You should stop by in the morning.”

A
toast! Jacob raises his wine glass. “To what amazing things a long
trek can do and may you all find your own way!
”

I
am buzzing with positive energy after our evening
.
Tezka
is one of those people you meet that somehow make you feel better
after spending time with them. I feel so good spiritually that I can
barely sleep. Amy
’
s
entry in the Camino journal sums it up perfect
ly:
Today
was one of my favorite days! Amazing place to stay with incredible
energy and people.

Tomorrow
we continue through the forest. I can
’
t
wait to see what lies ahead.

Trail
Days 24—26

With
well over 200,000 people walking the Camino de Santiago every year,
it is inevitable that your daily hikes through nature can become a
lesson in patience.
¹
We have been lucky thus far and have been able to avoid the masses
when we want. It has seemed like simply a popular trail in a typical
national park. At some points, I have even questioned the statistics
as I stare at a landscape void of humans. Only myself and Amy. I know
this is all about to change.

The
feeling of seclusion has been enhanced today by a persistent and
thick fog. The trail is amazingly beautiful. We are alone on a dirt
path and the branches of this old forest are so thick that they wrap
over our heads, acting as a sort of natural umbrella protecting us
from the rain. The only sound is the wind and the occasional drop of
water that escapes the leaves and falls onto my rain jacket. The oak,
chestnut, and beech trees have seen many pilgrims before us and will
see many more generations long after I am gone.